Not My Idea
by Wulf
Summary: 3 in the GLS. Virgin white and slut scarlet red. How easy it is to hurt the ones we love the most. SLASH.
1. PART ONE

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

AN/Warnings: Language and graphic slash ahead.

Genre(s): Angst, romance ,drama, yiff, AUish.

Setting: one year after the war with Andross

Song Credits: Not My Idea (c) Garbage

Additional AN: Sequel to "#1 Crush." No beta. Sorry...... Forgive the grammatical/ spelling mistakes. I try to catch them all, but it's hard to edit your own work.

Dedication: (Don't normally do these.) To Kerplunk, for getting me to write it again.

  
  


PART ONE  
CHAPTER ONE

*I bit my tongue and stood in line,

With not much to believe in.

I bought into what I was sold,

and ended up with nothing.*

  
  


Saturday morning, Falco and Katt's trailer, Corneria City

The first thing Fox was aware of was the screaming pain behind his eyes, as though Lylat War II was taking place between his ears. The second thing was the warmth curled at his side, and the soft, hot breath blowing across his neck. Fox yawned once, squirming closer to the warmth, waiting for his mind to reboot and tell him what he did last night, and considering the sharp agony raging in his head, it was going to be an interesting report.

But for now, it could wait.

Fox yawned, little canine fangs glinting slightly in the morning light. Squirming into a more comfortable position, Fox nestled his head against the warmth, the soft and nearly velvety body lying next to him. It responded with an almost inaudible groan, flinging an arm across his chest, and something inside Fox relaxed, the pain fading ever so slightly, replaced by a pleasant electric shiver that ran through his body. Fox smiled in a dreamy haze as sleep rushed to claim him once again, and he buried his face in a mop of blue feathers without really being conscious of it.

  
  


He awoke with a hiss, a sharp intake of breath at the climax of a nightmare, painful memories slithering atop one another inside his head. Falco had his face pressed against something soft, a warm body that vibrated in the most calming way with each breath. Under any normal circumstance, Falco would've been terrified, not knowing who he had shared a bed with, but if he remembered last night's activities correctly, it was most definitely not a normal circumstance.

He had wound up in bed with his best friend, and it wasn't Katt.

Falco slowly sat up, pulling his arm away, slumping on his right side as he ran a hand through the unruly feathers atop his head blinking the last remnants of sleep from his sharp green eyes. He stared down, knowing he'd find Fox there, yet still slightly surprised to see him.

Surprised he'd stayed? Surprised he'd hadn't slipped away in the middle of the night? Surprised he slept peacefully beside him with a smile on his face?

Falco sighed, looking away, staring as the white curtains fluttered in the filtered morning light. His mind was swimming, and he couldn't help the fear rising in his throat.

It had been so easy, to keep the world at a distance. So easy to shut everything out, to snap at those that came near. His past was full of blood and pain, of sorrow and screaming that went unheard. Falco looked away from the immaculate, unstained curtains.

  
  


Liar. Sinner.

Katt had been his first mistake.

He hadn't liked the girl at first; she'd been childish, brash, and even cockier than he. She had been damned annoying in the beginning, and he had been ready to let her throw her life away, but something had stopped him. Something he couldn't define, but it was there, that scary thing deep inside him, warm but unnerving all the same.

She'd gotten under his feathers, and he had let her.

Katt, beautiful Katt. The woman whom he loved more than anything. Beautiful, brash, reckless Katt. How she had always been there. What did she think? It was she who had told him to go after Fox, despite her obvious feelings; he had always known she had a crush on him....

But she had told him to go.

Had he betrayed her?

The curtains rippled with a loud rustle of cloth slapping against cloth, and Falco became once again fascinated with flowing of perfect white. Clean, virgin white, not like the many subtle deceiving shades of off-white that weren't really white. No, the curtains were white.

Liar.

Falco looked once again to Fox, curled up in navy sheets, fur disheveled in the most charming and sweet way, red fur stark against the almost black fabric. He looked so peaceful, head lolling off to one side, black lashes fluttering with the pass of dreamy images.

Did he dream of his father, of long-forgotten summer nights under starry skies? Or his mother, the late beautiful, elegant blue-eyed vixen? Happy times of a carefree childhood, with mother and father at an amusement park? Of Peppy and learning to play chess? Of Bill and times not so long ago at the academy?

Or did he...... Did he dream of him? Blue feathers and green eyes, a haughty smirk, a dark frown? Of times during the war, like when Fox had carefully wrapped a deep gash on his wing at the expense of his own shirt? Or the time when Falco had carried him to the hospital, just after the bomb had exploded in flying concrete....

Falco sighed again, slipping silently and gently from the bed. He padded quietly across the room, stopping at the door for one last look at Fox, a furry lump curled in his bed, form silhouetted against the bright light streaming in from the perfect white curtains.

  
  


CHAPTER TWO

*This is not my idea of a good time.

This is not my idea of a good time.

This is not my idea of a good time.

This is not my idea.*

  
  


Falco closed the door silently behind him, bare feet making small, muffled footfalls on the semi-scraggly brown carpeting of the hallway. Preoccupied with his usual dark thoughts, he nearly ran into Katt, who was shuffling out of bed as well, on her way to the kitchen. She was dressed in a simple pastel violet nightie, short white silk robe hanging from her shoulders. Her white mop of hair was a mess, pink fur in need of combing, but even her sleep-puffy eyes couldn't completely obscure her beauty.

Falco stopped, swallowing, suddenly feeling awkward, not knowing what to say, where he could possibly begin. He could see the pain in Katt's eyes, even as she smiled brightly up at him, or at least the sleepy version of an early morning smile. She was hurt, hurt bad.

And he had done it. He had hurt his Katt, beautiful Katt. Goddesses help him, he had done it.

"Katt, I..." he trailed off, knowing that whatever he said wouldn't be able to take the hurt from her eyes, the look of betrayal out of her tired face. I'm sorry Katt, I'm so sorry, I-

"Mornin' Falco," she replied to his half-sentence, her Southern drawl bright and sparkly, despite her painful, dead blue eyes. She swallowed, hiding her pain, wanting to ask questions but not wanting too, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and weird and stiff around of Falco. She didn't like it at all.

She settled for just side-stepping the matter, not wanting to make things harder than they already were. She couldn't hate Fox, not for loving Falco, and not for the way Falco felt back. How could she? It wasn't like Fox could control who he loved....

But why did it have to be Falco? Her Falco, darling Falco. Whom had helped her so many years ago. Whom had always been there. Was if fear that fluttered in her chest? Fear of not seeing Falco again? Fear of ever hating Fox? Fear of being shallow, and alone....

She realized at once that she and Falco were staring at one another, varying expression of guilt and pain on their faces. Blushing, she looked away, tying her robe tightly, feeling almost naked in front of him, although she had never minded before. Falco cleared his throat, coughed, shifting and fidgeting uncomfortably. Katt decided to take it upon herself to relieve the tension, and with a smile that both knew was fake, she spoke up.

"Want some breakfast, Fly Boy?

Falco allowed himself a slight upward curve of his beak, nodding, not quite trusting his voice. He knew it would be harsh and grating with a tremble that he hated. He didn't want to hear it. Soundlessly, he followed Katt into the tiny kitchen, unfeeling as he got out whatever ingredient she asked for, handing them to her, unpleasant shudders running over his spine whenever his fingers brushed hers. He hated it, this strained feeling. How easy it had been before.

He watched from a corner as she set about making pancakes, burnt of course, she could never cook, but he had always loved that about her, that she had always tried although it was a lost cause. Things were slowly settling between them as the morning routine fell into its familiar rhythm, the casual ease comforting as the air thinned.

A momentary respite from the storm. The subject of the boy in his bed would come up, sooner or later, and although he rather it not come at all, it would be easier to deal with if it came sooner, before Fox stumbled into the now semi-smokey kitchen to sit with them for an uneasy breakfast.

He cleared his throat again, shuddering at the sound of his own voice. "Katt? I...."

She turned around, fry-pan in her paw, spatula in the other, scraping at grease-burnt batter. She looked so innocent, so young, long, thin legs disappearing under the silky robe, feet covered in thick, fuzzy slippers with a color that matched her nightie. She stared at him, expectantly, curiosity fighting the pain held in her blue eyes.

"I... don't know what to say. I'm sorry, Katt, I....." He trailed off, looking away, not able to meet her stare. What could he possibly say, anyway? What would make a difference?

He heard the sound of her putting the pan down atop the electric burner again, the sticky clack of her slippers against the linoleum tiles, the feel of her soft warm fingers pressing under his chin, lifting it up. He couldn't look at her, but he knew she wouldn't speak until he did, pain ripping through his chest. Finally, he met her eyes, met the pain again, and shuddered gently.

"Falco, it's.....it's okay," she started, eyes closing, trying to say what was in her heart without telling him that she loved him, madly, and that she hated Fox. She didn't hate Fox. She couldn't hate Fox. Never.

"You can't help who you love, Falco." A bittersweet chuckle. "I know, believe me, I do. But I want you to be happy, okay? And if he makes you happy, well then..... then I'm happy."

She turned away. It was bullshit, they both knew it, but somehow, saying it made them both feel a little better, as if the charade was real and she was happy and Falco hadn't betrayed her. She returned to pancakes, flipping them, Falco catching sight of the blackened batter, stomach shrinking ever so slightly.

"Katt....I love you."

Her shoulders tensed slightly, and although Falco couldn't see her face, the tears were dripping in her voice. "I know, Falco. I know."

And somehow, the lie was easy to believe.

  
  


Fox awoke again, the lack of warmth being the deciding factor. That, and he had to pee. He squirmed in the sheets, not wanting to get up, the bed feeling so soft, and the sheets so silky. But consciousness was returning, the bright morning light becoming more and more apparent as he surfaced, the tingle of smoke in his nostrils and the sensation of fading heat from the bed.

And his head hurt like hell.

The night came back to him in a surge, and with a blush he realized his life was forever changed, but that it was a good thing. He toyed with the sheets, not quite ready to face reality, clinging to the fuzzy haze of last night. How easy it had been when he had been drunk. Now, with a clearer head, he was unsure of what to do.

It was unlikely, he supposed, that he could hide in the sheets for the rest of the day. He'd have to face Falco some time, face him and ask him where they went next. Their's was a strange relationship, awkward, but not unpleasant, and a smile twitched at Fox's muzzle as Falco came to his mind's eye.

Throwing the covers off his legs, Fox stretched, and yawned, giving his ears a good scratch before standing up to pop the remaining kinks out of his back. A cool breeze flittered through the curtains, the fur on the back of his neck standing up, the chill surprisingly pleasant against his sleep-sweaty skin. He shivered slightly, arms crossing his chest, looking up when the door knob rattled, Falco stepping silently into the room, closing the door behind him in the same noiseless grace.

Fox smiled shyly, and blushed again, heat rising to his face as his stomach bounced around his insides. There was a silence, not quite awkward, but not all that enjoyable either, and finally Falco cleared his throat and spoke.

"Breakfast?"

Fox's stomach churned again, not with butterflies, but this time with the alcohol he'd consumed, and although he hadn't retched last night, he was almost sure he'd do it now, especially after a meal. Fox shook his head, the room spinning as he did, and placing a paw on his stomach, he stumbled back, knees hitting the bed as he fell down onto it. He curled his tail around himself and hunched over, squeezing his eyes shut.

Falco crossed the room, sitting next to Fox, rubbing his back in soothing circles as the canine struggled to get his innards under control. His hand tensed for a second, realizing suddenly that with Fox he'd always done whatever came natural, so casual every time he'd touched him.

Fox leaned heavily against him, eyes still closed, and Falco wrapped an arm around the boy, nestling his head against the tangled mass of red fur atop the canine's head. And for a moment, nothing mattered, not the drunkenness, the morning, the past, or even his beloved Katt. It was just he and Fox, sitting together in peace.

But it ended soon enough, as Fox's stomach protested in a loud rumbling groan, and he realized at once that he was in fact hungry, and that it was only good manners to accept whatever it was that Falco and Katt had concocted. "I'm hungry," he whispered, and he felt Falco nod, the avian standing up, giving him a hand, and Fox pulled himself up as well.

They walked to the door, Fox's paw still held firm by Falco. He stopped at the door, and looked at Fox, his other hand on the knob. He swallowed once, trying to find the right words to voice what he wanted to say. What was so clear in his head yet his tongue never said properly.

"Listen, Fox.... Katt....."

Fox nodded sadly, understanding. Katt's feelings had never been a secret, and Fox realized he'd have to face her sooner or later. "I know, Falco."

Falco looked away, putting off the ensuing confrontation a little longer, trying to buy some time so he could think of the right thing to say, the right thing to do. When nothing came to mind, he sighed, nodding, and with a clammy trembling hand, he opened the door, leading Fox from the room.

The smell of acrid smoke greeted them.


	2. PART TWO

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

AN: Wow. Thank you for all of the beautiful reviews. ^ - ^

Can anyone tell me why my italics doesn't show up? (Yes, I'm just noticing now. How sad.) I upload in htm.

  
  


PART TWO  
CHAPTER THREE

*You thought that I would never see.

What was meant for you was meant for me.

I was distracted at the time.

Forget about yours now what about mine.*

  
  


Katt sniffed, a muffled whimper escaping her lips as she jabbed at the burning remnants of what was once a pancake. It was smoking slightly, thick tendrils of black rising from the pan and curling into the fan where it was sucked out into the open air. She never could cook.

She bit her lip, refusing to cry. She was stronger than that. Falco had left, what seemed like ages ago, or perhaps only a few minutes, to fetch Fox and bring him back so that they may have a civil, merry breakfast together. Sweet Fox, heroic Fox. How sharing a simple breakfast with him disgusted her.

She shook the dark thought away before it could take root, dumping the now cold and rather forlorn looking clump of blackened batter into the trash can. But she'd get over it right? Get over him? She had to, some time....

But hadn't been at least three years now? From a simple infatuation to the stabbing love that burned her throat and stomach? How sad. 

She'd been skipping along beside him, like a happy little school girl, young and naive, waiting for him to return the affections because deep down in her heart, she knew he someday would. After all, it was in the story books, right?

Katt exhaled sharply, her throat locking up. To hell with it. With everything. Sudden anger rose up inside her, and her tiny fist trembled in rage. God damn Fox. God damn him. To steal the only man she'd ever loved, take away that hope, wish, and dream, that special someone whom she'd been waiting her entire life to meet, how could he?

She shook her head, white tresses flying, another stifled sob slipping from her mouth. It was stupid, she knew it. She'd gone through it a thousand times since last night. But the look on Falco's face....

How happy. How sweet. How revolting.

Slamming the pan down angrily into the sink to let it mingle with the other long-forgotten dirty dishes, she tore through the kitchen, ripping the white satin robe off her shoulders with so much vehemence it nearly severed at the seams. She tossed in on her bed, nightie following quickly, and blindly groped in her closet for a half-decent sweatshirt and a pair of pants.

She was being irrational, of course. But love always did crazy things to people.

She didn't want to be around Fox, have a friendly breakfast with him, chat about the good ol' times. Didn't want to see the love glowing in his face, the sweet shy blush creeping up into his fur. Didn't want to be civil, didn't want to be sweet.

Didn't want to see Falco.

She grabbed her car keys, returning to the kitchen to jot down a hastily-written note on the notebook hanging from the fridge (which was used primarily for grocery lists, but this being of a rather odd situation...) She dropped the pen after a curt scribble, whereupon is sung freely on the little silver chain that kept it secured to the tablet. Pulling up her hair into a loose ponytail she silently left, the door closing behind her on squeaky hinges.

She didn't look back.

  
  


Falco stepped over the threshold, mildly shocked when he didn't see Katt sitting at kitchen table. Fox, who was still happily attached to his arm, looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Falco?"

Falco shrugged, not sure what to do either. Katt wasn't there, no breakfast of the table, the trace remnants of smoke in the air...

Perhaps one of her friends had called with an emergency. But he hadn't heard the phone ring, did he? Or her car pull out of the lot? However, he did admit, that being with Fox made him lose track of his surroundings, which included phone calls and cars.

Letting go of Fox's paw, he walked over the refrigerator, instinct telling him to check, just in case. There was a hastily scribbled note, written in quick, flowing script:

//Had to go. Forgot I had an errand to run. Breakfast is burnt, keep fan on.

I'm sorry.

Love, Katt//

Falco cocked his head, scratching the soft feathers atop it. An errand? This early in the morning? What did....

"What'd she say?"

Falco nearly jumped out of his feathers, suddenly feeling Fox's paws on his shoulders and his lips on his ear. When did he sneak up? Falco grunted softly, as Fox kneaded his stiff and tense shoulders. He groaned appreciatively, leaning back as Fox's paws did some wonderful, wonderful things to his muscles.

"Falco?"

"Nm?"

"Where's Katt? What happened?"

"Nn, she had an--nng, right there-- an errand to run."

Fox continued with his work, fingers prodding at a rather stubborn knot. His looked up at Falco, blue eyes peering over one shoulder. "An errand? Where?"

"Don't know."

"Doesn't that seem, I don't know, a little odd to you? I mean, this early in the morning?"

Falco sighed, giving his shoulders a good roll after Fox had finished. "Fox, whatever it is, it's Katt's business. She can take care of herself."

Fox blinked, taken slightly aback by the subtle anger in Falco's voice. He'd hit a soft spot, that was for sure. Smacked it, more likely. Although he was concerned for Katt, he bit his lip, wisely so, letting whatever that had happened between Falco and Katt that morning stay between them.

Gently, Falco slipped his wings around Fox's shoulder, burying his beak in the silky-soft fur atop his head. Breathing in Fox's slightly musky wild scent, he whispered into red-orange hair.

"Let's go to breakfast, ne?"

  
  


CHAPTER FOUR

*This is not my idea of a good time.

This is not my idea of a good time.

This is not my idea of a good time.

This is not my idea.*

  
  


Late afternoon, Falco and Katt's trailer

Falco ran a hand through the feathers atop his head, mind stumbling over what he was going to say when Katt got home for the umpteenth time. Fox had gone to work, Falco had dropped him off after breakfast. He'd looked a little better after a hot shower and a warm meal, and although Falco didn't wish to part with him, Fox had his duties to do, just as Falco would have tomorrow, but for now, he had the day off.

He leaned back against the ratty couch, hand closing around his perspiring glass of cold lemonade, taking a small sip before idly tracing a finger around the rim. Katt had been gone for a while, for far too long. Falco berated himself again, knowing that as he pursued his relationship with Fox, he was destroying Katt.

She was tough, sure, but emotions were a bitch, and if anyone knew how she felt, it was Falco. He'd had his share of shitty times, and it scared him to see Katt this way, his Katt, the slowly dying sparkle in her eyes reminiscent of his own when he had been young and innocent and naive.

Falco sighed, shifting against the reddish-brownish undefinable colored couch, the heat making him uncomfortable. He and Katt had been saving up for an air conditioner, but the car had decided to act up, and all of Falco's hopes of a cool summer had nearly literally gone up in smoke. He flipped through the TV channels, but as always, it seemed as if there was nothing good on.

It was late afternoon by now, sunlight blaring through the window blinds at full blast. Falco rubbed the back of one of his hands over his forehead, grimacing at the feel of body-heated sweat. He was reaching again for his glass of lemonade when he heard the door squeak, and Katt stepped over the threshold.

Before Falco could say a word, she dropped her keys on the coffee table and made a beeline for her room, arms already pulling at her sweatshirt. It had been cold this morning, and obviously she hadn't expected to have been gone so long.

She came back dressed in a tank top and shorts, hair pulled up in a loose bun. She plopped down on the couch next to Falco, closing her eyes for a minute as she collected her thoughts, mind sorting out what she wanted to say. Falco kept silent, allowing Katt to do what she wanted with the situation, not wanting to rush her.

Katt finally blinked her vivid blue eyes open, eyes that were only a few shades lighter than Fox's, and smiled.

It was a real smile, an honest to goodness real smile, and Falco was awash with relief when he saw the light flicker in her eyes again. Her face was still clouded with pain, that sad tinge to her clear eyes, but she was okay, she still hurt, but she was okay.

"Falco," Katt trailed off, still not sure what to say or where to begin. She licked her lips, eyes squinting for a moment as she struggled to say what wasn't quite clear in her mind. "I, uh... I'm sorry I ran off."

Falco slimed slightly, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear, still keeping silent, waiting for Katt to finish her piece.

"I... needed time to think. I mean, well," she shrugged, biting her lip slightly. Falco held her paw, rubbing reassuring circles over her knuckles. "Falco, you know how I feel about you. It hurt to see you with Fox. I mean, I'm glad you're happy, but it still hurts. For so long, I thought that, well, I thought we'd end up together."

Katt stopped for a minute, smiling, eyes looking faraway for minute, seeing something Falco couldn't before she started again. "I guess it was kind of silly, but, you know. I guess what I'm trying to say, Falco, it that... it's okay. I... I can't ever really get over you, you're my first love, but.....I'll be okay."

Katt smiled meekly, shrugging, biting her lip once again. But Falco understood, what so many words wouldn't be able to explain. He pulled her into an embrace, Katt burying her face against his chest. She'd accepted them, the only person who's opinion really mattered to him.

They sat for a moment, simply holding each other, Katt trying to control her emotions, and finding it surprisingly easier. Not any less painful, but easier, and suddenly realizing that Falco would never truly be hers wasn't such a shock, and she sincerely was happy for him.

It was going to be okay. She was sure of it.

"Just remember that if he hurts you, I'll scratch his face off."

Falco's lips curved slightly, an odd and fairly disturbing image coming to mind. "I'll be sure to tell him that."

"You'd better," Katt whispered, playfully punching Falco in the shoulder. She pulled away from his chest, sitting up, grabbing the clicker from Falco to surf through the channels. Falco allowed himself to smile again, eyes narrowing slightly in mischief as he caught the undefinable glow imbibing her face.

"So, who is he then?"

Katt blushed, jumping fairly, white locked bouncing as she mockingly tossed her head. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

Falco pursed his lips, throwing an arm towards Katt to snatch the remote as she settled on some mushy-gushy romance movie. He wrestled it from her paws, flipping on a splatter flick before she took him by surprise, and with a self-satisfied smirk, the happy couple reappeared back on the TV screen. Falco rolled his eyes, but conceded to it, crossing his arms and bracing himself for the impending ninety minutes of sheer torture. Katt smiled, leaning against him, and he wrapped a wing around her.

"Just remember that if he hurts you, I'll peck his face off."

"I'll be sure to tell him that."

  
  


Later, Cornerian Air Force Base, Peace Keeper's division

Fox squeezed his eyes shut, fingertips rubbing at his temples. The harsh screaming pain from that morning had given way to a dull throb that pounded behind his eyes unrelentingly. His shift was almost up, Fox smiling when he realized what he now had to look forward to. His smile quickly died away, however, when he opened his eyes and stared down at the form looking back up at him.

He sighed, grabbing his pen and scribbling away at it again, the long-suffering bottle of white-out sitting within reach. Some people simply weren't made for desk jobs. I'll take the sky, any day, Fox thought as blinked sleepily and yawned, eyes sliding shut for a moment as he rested his head against a paw.

He was jolted back into reality when his normally faithful desk shuddered, and his pen went skidding across the paper. Fox snapped his eyes open and stared up at Bill, who had found it acceptable to take root on his desk. He winked back, paws folded innocently in his lap, maniac grin on his face.

"So, Hot Stuff, how was your date?"

Fox blushed, looking away, dabbing white-out on his report. "I fail to see how that is any of your business."

"If it's anything I can tease you about, of course it's my business."

Fox smirked, rubbing the white-off over the pen mark with calculated slowness, knowing that he had the upper paw. Bill shifted on his desk, squirming with anticipation. "So?"

Fox yawned mockingly, finishing up cleaning up his report. He grabbed his pen again, continuing where he had left off, ignoring Bill's presence for the moment. Bill pouted, pushing his sunglasses back up his muzzle (only Bill would insist on wearing shades indoors), and hopping off Fox's desk.

"Not gonna tell me, huh?"

Fox grinned, shaking his head.

"Fine, fine," Bill muttered, putting a paw over his heart, as if he'd been stabbed. He trailed off from what he was going to say next, a particularly long-legged girl catching his eye from the other side of the room. He turned his eyes back to Fox, if only for the moment. "You know I'll just get it out of you, anyways."

Fox rolled his eyes, coughing.

"Hey, Fox."

Fox looked at Bill again, tensing slightly when the all-too-familiar maniac grin resurfaced on his face. Bill leaned in close, both paws resting on his desk. "Rawr," he mewed, giving Fox's desk a good shake, sending his pen sailing across the page again before laughing and darting towards the crowd.

Fox took one look at his form before chucking his paperweight at Bill.

  
  
  
  


And yes, before anyone asks, I'm planning on doing a sidefic that explains what happens to Katt.

(Click the review button. You know you wanna.)


	3. PART THREE

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

AN: It passes by with an R. I really don't know how to write lemons......

"The Dolls" (c) by W. B. Yeats.

  
  
  
  


PART THREE  
CHAPTER FIVE

*You thought I was a little girl.

You thought I was a little mouse.

You thought you'd take me by surprise.

Now I'm here burning down your house.*

  
  


about a week later, Cornerian Air Force Base, courtyard

There was a modest little courtyard outside, near the cafeteria on the second story. A set of rusted metal stairs led down from the small helipad into the garden, lush and well-kept albeit its size. It was one of Fox's favorite places, quiet and simple and fresh.

The scorching summer heat had rolled in full force, and the air conditioning was, as expected, out once again. Everyone had dispersed from the hot and stagnant air of the cafeteria, opting have their lunch some where else, preferably cooler. Fox however, stubborn as always, found a shady spot out in the courtyard to enjoy his lunch. The breeze was cool enough, and it smelled of fragrant spice and lotus, and something else that he'd never been able to define.

He was off daydreaming, staring at the clouds when Bill approached, panting from the heat, his grey tail drooping, the pant legs of his plain olive green air force issue jumpsuit rolled up, the top unzipped and tied around his waist, a white wifebeater sticking to his sweaty fur.

"Hot as hell out here," he muttered, bringing Fox back to reality.

"Mn?"

"I said it's HOT!" Bill barked, plopping down in the shade next his friend.

"I hadn't noticed," Fox said under his breath, rolling his eyes. He took a bite of his sandwich, watching as Bill reached across him, grabbing a few of his potato chips. With out asking.

"Don't get snippy."

"I'm not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Uh huh."

Fox sighed. Bill grinned, winking through his sunglasses. "I win."

They sat in silence for a moment, Fox nibbling on his PBJ (the staple of a bachelor's diet), and contemplating his newest favorite color, blue, while Bill pilfered chips, staring up at the clear sky. Fox pretended not to notice.

"So what's up, then? I mean, I haven't seen you around in a while."

Fox blushed, suddenly becoming very interested with the bee buzzing around a flower near his knee. Bill wouldn't let him get out of it so easily, though, and with one of his all-too-familiar maniac grins plastered across his face, he piped up again.

"So... Who is she, then?"

Fox coughed, nearly choking on one of the pickles in his PBJ. 

"I won't let you get out of it that easily. Now I know it isn't Fay, 'cos I talked to her, and she said it didn't work out. Pretty cute girl, ya know. Really nice eyes. Anyways, then there's Katt, but it couldn't be her, 'cos I got the feeling she hates your guts, don't know why, great figure, but anyways, then there's that mechanic chick, but she's such a frigid bitch and all, what a waste, too, beautiful set of legs, and then there's that one girl working at the information desk, who's got a really nice rack, if you ask me, but she isn't your type, and neither is--"

"Bill!"

"What?"

"Bill, it's not....it's not like that...." Fox swallowed, hard. Could he really say it? Could he really tell Bill? The guy had been his best friend since they were both pups, they'd been through everything together, hell, they'd even been thought a war, but....could he really say it? It.

During the past week, Fox had found his life thoroughly rearranged, fastened, almost securely anchored. It had been good, all of it, although not all pretty. Only Katt knew about he and Falco, and she accepted it, even if she wasn't entirely happy about it. But Fox wasn't stupid, innocent maybe, and a little naive, but definitely not stupid. He knew others wouldn't be so accepting. And that was the horrible thing about it, he was the son of a celebrity, the most skilled pilot Lylat had ever known, and being a pretty good fighter himself.....

Well, that's where things started to get complicated.

Notoriety was a bitch, something all of them had ended up with after the war, something none of them had asked for. They were heroes, legends even, and even if the media didn't hound them on a daily basis like they had a year ago, they still kept tabs.

As the son of James McCloud, the James McCloud, Fox was expected to get married, settle down, and pass the genes on. Maybe get a white picket fence, a cute little house with a two-car garage, a big screen TV, have that beautiful wife, and the 2.5 pups. Suffice to say, things hadn't gone as planned. Not only was he involved with a co-worker, he happened to be romantically linked with Falco, with a man--

And if that ever got out, shit would hit the proverbial fan.

"Yo, Lylat to Fox, come back to me buddy..." Bill's good-natured teasing tore Fox from his depressing reverie. In the end, it wouldn't matter, he'd have to tell Bill sometime, he had a right to know, after all, they'd been friends since puphood, and he was his best friend, after all, and--

And he was stalling.

Fox licked his lips, closing his eyes for a moment.

Oh, fuck....

"Hey, Fox? You look kinda...well, kinda green. You okay? Uh.....Fox?"

"Um, Bill?"

"Yeah?"

Fox drummed up a mental image of Falco, his quiet smirk that wasn't quite a smile, his haunted green eyes, and that small plait of feathers that always seemed to hang in his eyes....

Falco....

He opened his eyes, preparing to take the plunge.

"Um, Bill, remember...remember when you told me....I mean, you thought that I was, uh..."

Hell, he still couldn't say it.

"Gay?"

Fox blushed. "Uh, yeah. I'm...I've been seeing, I-I mean, I'm.....I'm dating..."

"Falco?"

Fox jumped, blushing. He looked away, bracing himself for the taunts, the teasing, the discriminating names. Waiting for Bill to turn his nose up and dump the rest of his chips on his head. Bill would do something like that.

But when nothing came, Fox cautiously opened one eye, then the other, only to find Bill munching on a potato chip, thoughtfully almost, as if he thought of things other than T n' A.

"Well," Bill said, pausing for another chip. "It's about fucking time."

Fox blinked. Was he serious? 

"So, um, you're okay with it?"

Bill shrugged. "Fox, do you think I would've hung out with you and stuff if I had a problem with it? I mean, I did think you were, before..."

Well, that was true, at least.

Fox blinked, a smile slowly forming on his face. So, Bill accepted him. He didn't care, after all. It was a small victory for him, but a victory nonetheless. He took another bite of his banana/pickle PBJ, smiling again as he looked towards the sky.

Maybe things were going to be okay, after all.

  
  


CHAPTER SIX

*This is not my idea of a good time.

This is not my idea of a good time.

This is not my idea of a good time.

This is not my idea.*

  
  


Falco and Katt's trailer, next day, late after noon, Corneria City

It had been another hot day, humid this time, with low clouds that hung in the wet air. It had rained off and on during the entire day, which only served to keep the atmosphere unpleasantly torrid instead of cooling it down.

Mercifully enough, both Fox and Falco had the day off, spending it together in all their sweaty, furry, feathery glory. They'd had a peaceful lunch together, retiring to Falco's room afterwards, which was sadly the coolest place in the trailer. Fox was on his stomach, stretched on Falco's bed, flipping through the channels, and typically, there was nothing good on. Falco sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, head resting against Fox's arm.

Fox sighed, turning the TV off, rolling on his back, throwing an arm over his face. He was lost in his thoughts, or the lack of them, it was much too hot to think, failing to acknowledge that Falco had moved. Fox moved his arm away, jumping slightly when he realized that Falco had moved, and was standing next to the bed, arms crossed, silently observing him.

A tiny smirk pulled at Falco's lips, feathers falling gently into his eyes. Fox blushed, feeling exposed almost, under Falco's scrutiny. The stillness was maddening; the silence. Oppressive tension and shared desire pervaded the quiet tranquility of the room, and Fox all at once realized his fingers were digging into the bed sheets.

(A doll in the doll maker's house

Looks at the cradle and bawls:

"That is an insult to us.")

Falco reached down slowly, hands resting on either side of Fox's head. Fox blushed, smiled, looking away. He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to look in Falco's eyes, a tired smile settling over his lips. Falco finally bridged that gap between them, pressing his mouth to Fox's, lips massaging, working to open Fox's mouth.

There had always been an unspoken agreement between the two of them, something that told Falco when to stop and when to keep going, Fox being of the inexperienced sort. Falco kept his control, cherishing Fox's purity, and respecting his wishes, although his body often said otherwise. Fox returned the kiss with eager force, and Falco felt that control slip a notch, a hair, his fingers tangling more desperately into Fox's fur.

Wait......

(But the oldest of all the dolls,

Who had seen, being kept for show,

Generations of his sort,)

Paws tugged desperately at Falco's shirt, clumsily undoing the buttons, kisses growing longer and more heated. Fox's finger got caught on a button, a whimpered groan escaping his lips as he fiddled usefully his Falco's shirt, a sharp rip settling in the air. Falco chuckled, pulling Fox's paws away, holding them in his larger hands. He pulled away slightly to start a trail down Fox's neck, blue eyes settling closed in rapture.

Falco pushed the dark thoughts out of his mind, his own fingers pulling at Fox's shirt after stripping himself of what was left of his. He pulled farther away for a moment, staring down at Fox, sprawled beneath him, panting, eyes dark and face flushed. Neither spoke, simply holding each other in a agaze.

Falco swallowed heavily. 

(Out-screams the whole shelf: "Although

There's not a man can report

Evil of this place,)

Fox looked back up at Falco eyes wide, earnest. A ghost of a smile graced his lips, and he clumsily tugged Falco down atop him, arms wrapping around his back, fingers tangling into soft feathers. Fox's sensitive nostrils twitched, inhaling the rich, spicy scent of Falco's cologne.

Falco squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing again, burying his face again the silky fur of Fox's neck. 

(The man and woman bring

Hither, to our disgrace.

A noisy and filthy thing.")

Falco's finger crawled downward, brushing Fox's pants, feeling him sharply intake another breath, tensing slightly.

"Falco....."

Fox's arms wound more tightly around him, Falco slowly unzipping his pants, pushing them down Fox's hips. He struggled out of Fox's grip, tugging his pants down slender legs, tossing them unceremoniously on the floor. Fox, heady, dazed, stared back, quietly assuring himself the he was ready for whatever was to come next.

Falco looked back down at Fox, reaching out, gently brushing his fingertips against one furry cheek. Fox smiled, turning into the caress, eyes dark and half lidded, full of lust and love, a pure kind of love that Falco knew he didn't deserve.

Fox pulled Falco down again, his now naked body pressing against him, tearing away his last shred of control.

(Hearing him groan and stretch

The doll-maker's wife is aware

Her husband has heard the wretch,)

Falco pressed against Fox, panting, fingers fumbling with his own zipper, pushing his shorts down to his knees. Fox was nearly limp in his wings, allowing Falco to do as he pleased--trusting him-- completely, utterly, face awash with love, imbibing him with a sweet glow. Falco hooked his wings under Fox's knees, pulling them up to his chest, staring down at Fox for one, final moment.

No--stop me, don't stop me--please, just let me do the right thing!

"I'm sorry," Falco whispered, sudden desperation clouding his face.

Fox could only stare for a moment, perplexed, watching as Falco grimaced--

And there was a sudden rush of pain, searing, shattering his insides. Fox's mouth fell open, a hiss of air escaping him, eyes tearing up. He gave no voice to the overwhelming pain consuming him, tried to, but couldn't, feeling himself being torn open again and again in rhythmic thrusts.

Fox's head fell to the side, part of his mind crawling back inside itself as Falco continued, his eyes scanning the wall with blurry vision, trying to find something, anything to distract himself from the burning agony ripping through him.

His eyes rested on a poster, worn with ripped corners, with bends and creases. It was a grey fox, silver fur shimmering in a dark backdrop, one grotesquely beautiful, ratty wing ascending from his back. His face was turned down, wrists cuffed and bleeding, raised above his head in a silent prayer. It screamed of torment, and a sudden sob was ripped from Fox's lips, the loneliness and despair roiling within him finally released.

Falco...

Fox turned away, closing his eyes, tears running down his face, breaths coming out in harsh gasps under the torment of emotional and physical strain. 

(And crouched by the arm of his chair,

She murmurs into his ear,

Head upon shoulder leant:)

Falco's mind was in a haze, his body in ecstacy, drinking heavily from the blissful heaven of Fox, hating himself for it. He grunted, crying out, bracing himself for the oncoming wave, fingers digging into Fox's back.

His body shuddered, Fox's name uttered harshly under his breath as he came, vision going blurry white for a moment. He buried his face against Fox's neck again, breathing deeply, fingers tangling in the fur atop Fox's head. With a shuddery sigh, he finally pulled out, looking down upon the broken heavenly creature beneath him.

("My dear, my dear, O dear,)

Falco swallowed, mind reeling in horror with the realization of what he'd done. He quickly pulled up his shorts and zipped them, pulling Fox to his chest, his own tears finally coming. Falco buried his face in Fox's fur, whispering apologizes in a bittersweet mantra as Fox curled up on himself, crying in Falco's chest.

Falco rocked him back and forth desperately, not knowing what else to do.

(It was an accident.") 


End file.
